Saturday, February 27, 2010

What's for Dinner? A Greek Tragedy

Supper's on and the table is set. Around here that means that an epic tale replete with timeless themes of fate and death will ensue.   I stand at center stage, family-size skillet and spatula raised high above my head:

Oh my children, the new blood of ancient Thebes, why are you here? Huddling at my altar, praying for the food. Our city reeks with the smoke of burning olive oil, rings with cries for the delivery guy and wailing from the hungry. I thought it wrong, my children, for you to hear the truth from others, messengers. Here I am myself-you all know me, the world knows my fame: I am your Mother. Dinner is ready. 

The Chorus takes its place:


We are not eating that. That is disgusting. We hate vegetables. No wonder we suffer twice over, the pain of our wounds, the lasting grief of pain.  That stuff is slimy and we hate cheese.

And it is inevitable. By the end of this drama lifeless bodies will strewn the table or someone is going to end up with their eyes poked out or some poor son or daughter will unwittingly murder a parent.  It is already happening, because, frankly,

this is killing me.

Disclaimer: Sophocles' original work was harmed in the making of this post. But what's he gonna do about it? 


  1. I know.

    I just look at mealtime now as a sort of dog school, wherein the children are, of course the dogs and the training is the painful repetition of nutritious food. I press on with the hope that it will all pay off once they become "old dogs".

    But, yes, you are spot on.

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  3. seriously, i think you're back with a bang. that was a lot of fun to read. very funny stuff, that right dere. how are things? I was meaning to call you today...your talk was a great read by the way, how did it go? Did you take the congregation for your own? No doubt. nice comment/email i just wrote.

  4. You are, officially, the smartest mom on the block.

  5. Whenever that question is posed at our home, I simply reply, "FOOD...any other questions?" I hate making dinner. Why, you ask? Yet another childhood scar, I am sure! I hated doing the dishes, so why do we have to eat dinner????? Cereal is such a great food. I love you, Bek, for always (and I mean ALWAYS) putting my feelings into words. You are my hero!!!!